


Liderc

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Richenbach, John resorts to sleeping pills to get any rest. And then takes more, and yet more... not knowing that soon he would be saved from himself by a visitor late in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liderc

John was aware he had probably taken too many sleeping pills that night. People kept telling him cheerfully that it would get better in time, but it only seemed to get worse. He was keenly aware of what the maximum safe prescribed dose was, and made his way up to it before taking it and a pill more, then it and two pills more. Tonight was the maximum plus three. He knew the fatal dose for his weight, and he was edging on the border of it.

Just a chance he would close his eyes and not wake up again. Just a chance, but a chance was enough.

He hadn’t realized how someone had been watching him, carefully noting each increased dose. He hadn’t realized how each new observation caused a new heartache which its owner didn’t know what to do with. It was that night that Sherlock gave up any pretense after struggling for months. They would both be in danger - that was true - but (he rationalized) when weren’t they in danger? How could they face such things apart - more importantly, how could Sherlock leave John in such a state?

John slept through the window of his new miserable apartment being opened. The bright light of Sherlock’s flashlight did make him open his eyes in merest slits. The sudden flare of brightness was obviously part of some dream, especially when coupled with its sudden disappearance, as if some will-o’-the-wisp had invaded his bedroom. He nearly slid back into sleep, tuning out the soft noise of Sherlock setting the flashlight down. John didn’t even truly wake when there was the warmth of Sherlock’s hand near his cheek. A small, keening sigh rolled out of him. And it was followed by another small mewling as Sherlock’s lips met his own in a deep and gentle kiss.

John’s eyes finally opened slightly again. “Sher…?”

“Sshh.” It was a soft command, and John was happy to comply as he stared up cross-eyed at Sherlock. He kept his breaths soft and slow, body weighted down by sleep. Maybe this was a dream. If so, it was one John seemed happy to let himself enjoy.

Sherlock’s touch was far more delicate than John had ever remembered. It was as if each fingertip was busy writing apologies as Sherlock’s hands ran over his chest, tracing the scars of old war-wounds and the purple-black of recent bruises. What they said was obvious: I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this. And he was so gentle, almost as if he expected John to fracture in his embrace. It was something John hadn’t quite expected. Sherlock was always focused to the point of being abrasive, selfish in his own way. Truthfully, Sherlock was as surprised as John was. This rush of new feelings was absolutely terrifying, because worry for John clouded his mind and brought him to what he knew were illogical conclusions.

Sherlock didn’t really care.

The silence settled in around them like a comfortable blanket, punctuated only by the small sighs and moans they gave. By the time Sherlock leaned back to unbutton his shirt and toss it off, John had begun to pant in a languid and sleepy manner. He barely seemed to have enough energy to reach up and run a hand through Sherlock’s hair, but as their kisses grew deeper, both seem content to let it rest there. Perhaps John gave the occasional accidental tug. Sherlock indulged in the pain, guilt screaming at him that it was something he deserved. Mostly it was a tangible reminder that John wanted him close enough to grab and hold onto.

Soon there was little between them, boxers shoved down and John’s undershirt shoved up. John’s eyes fluttered open for a moment before he went slightly cross-eyed with a groaning sigh as Sherlock gently nipped at his chest. But the warmth of each other was intoxicating as they kissed deeply, panting breaths drawn in through their noses. Their hips met, and with Sherlock’s urging, started to roll together in time. Perhaps later they would explore something more intense, but for right now, simple frottage was enough. Even Sherlock’s slim fingers working at his cock would have been enough for John, but the simple friction on top of that was enough to leave him spellbound. Each kiss was intoxicating, and Sherlock shuddered lightly when John pulled him forward by the hair for a deeper kiss.

Climax snuck up on John as thoroughly as Sherlock had. It seemed one moment he was enjoying the pleasant electric buzz in the air, and the next he was caught in pleasure so intense it was almost painful - face twisting, body tensing as he gave a grunt. Sherlock followed mere moments later, a low and throaty moan rolling into John’s ear right as the intense pleasure starts to subside, leaving him dizzied and breathless to watch Sherlock’s grimacing, gasping ecstasy. The warm afterglow brought with it a peace that John hadn’t known in months - no, years - and he gave a long sigh, the world going out of focus, barely able to keep his eyes open. As if understanding, Sherlock planted a small, nearly chaste kiss on his lips and worked his long fingers through John’s short hair: an invitation to rest that John was only too happy to accept.

And Sherlock stayed awake, counting John’s breaths until he was sure the danger of the sleeping pills had passed. When John finally woke up the next morning, sure that it was all just some dream, he was pleasantly surprised to find the warm weight of Sherlock’s arm across his chest. The other man was finally asleep, now, the sunlight catching behind his curly hair almost like a halo.

John did plenty of crying and questioning and clinging later. But at that moment, all was peaceful and calm, and they slept.


End file.
